


Marry Me

by Vulpesmellifera



Series: #MystradeStoryTime: Mystrade Tales Told in Tweets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpesmellifera/pseuds/Vulpesmellifera
Summary: Mycroft doesn't care for marriage; it's a vestigial organ on a modern society.Greg cares about marriage. Yet, he's never brought it up with Mycroft.That begins to chafe at the civil servant.





	Marry Me

**Author's Note:**

> #MystradeStoryTime is a delightful, impromptu activity on Twitter shared among the Mystrade fam. 
> 
> This plot bunny hit me while I was driving to work, and I tweeted it during meetings which had little to do with me. Tweeting this story kept me entertained with cell phone subterfuge. 
> 
> I've cleaned up the typos and the autocorrect fails. Please enjoy!

           Mycroft sat at his desk, staring at a gold framed photograph of he and his partner DCI Greg Lestrade. Three years, six months, & two days together. There’d been gentle kisses & demanding kisses, blistering hot sex & languorous lovemaking. There were whispered conversations late into the night, and teasing banter had over brunch. They’d had some rows, but these were followed by apologies, sometimes tears, always hugs and very often sex of the life-affirming kind. Many of their nights were spent in, comfortable on the sofa with a film on & too much takeaway spread out before them. For their first anniversary, Mycroft had taken Greg to Florence, and for the second, Greg surprised Mycroft with a trip to his family’s ancestral home in France. The third anniversary was spent at hospital, when Greg had suffered a knife wound to the thigh and Mycroft terrorized doctors and nurses into providing the best care for his love.

           As Mycroft reviewed many wonderful memories of this unexpected relationship with this unpredictable man, he couldn’t help but feel pulled by thre niggling ache of one question: why didn’t Greg want to marry him? For Mycroft, marriage had never been on the table before. It hadn’t been part of his personal plan - it hadn’t even registered. For most of his life, it wasn’t even legal for someone like him to marry. When it became legal, he scoffed. Why on earth would anyone want to participate in a tradition that was essentially a business transaction - goods shared and allies contracted - particularly one where women had largely been treated as chattel? Sure, now it came with certain social and legal benefits, but adorning it with the cultural trappings of true love and soul mates and such ilk didn’t change the nature of the beast. To Mycroft, if you were going to commit yourself to a person, a certificate saying so was entirely unnecessary. 

           But that was Mycroft. Greg was an entirely different person. Greg was a romantic. A traditionalist. When they’d been friends sharing coffees and talking about Sherlock, Greg told Mycroft about his marriage and subsequent divorce. He knew he’d end up marrying Hanna after only 3 months of dating. He proposed to her a year later. On Valentine’s Day. Greg was the type who knew what he wanted and went after it. Greg felt marriage was the apex of romance. The culminating expression of true love. 

           Even after his divorce, Greg had told Mycroft he’d marry again if he found the right person. He wouldn’t give up on true love, he’d said. Mycroft wrinkled his nose at it and told Greg “I wish you luck on that account.” Greg’d laughed that belly-deep beautiful laugh of his. 

          Greg moved in with Mycroft one year into their relationship. He’d been promoted to Detective Chief Inspector and got home most nights in time to make them dinner. His daughter Olivia had created a Pinterest account for him, and Greg found all manner of recipes to try out. Olivia visited them often. She shared her father’s coffee brown eyes and cheeky sense of humor, and Mycroft enjoyed her visits. Lately, Olivia had been a little reserved toward Mycroft. He wasn’t sure when that change started, but he put it out of his mind. 

           More pressing was this mystery with Greg. Had Greg given up on true love and settled for this arrangement with Mycroft?

           Mycroft’s heartrate increased at that thought, and he pushed it away. Greg said he loved Mycroft. He didn’t seem to be lying. Was he?

           Anthea interrupted his thoughts coming into the office. “Sir, the American president is on the line.”

           “Fuck my life.”

           Anthea's eyes popped open. “Shall I delay him?”

           “No, put him through.”

 

* * *

 

           The thoughts of marriage stuck with him in the next few weeks. He found himself staring in the mirror. What did he have to offer Greg, anyway? Too pale skin with too many freckles, a weak chin and a receding hairline, a condescending attitude and a lack of warmth toward the human species in general. He was wealthy and he had some power. That was it. But Greg said he didn’t care about that. Could Mycroft believe him? Maybe it was all that and the easy access to sex? Was Greg just comfortable and that’s all this was?

           While Mycroft was desperately in love, so in love that his insides ached with the thought of it, for Greg this was just something easy and comfortable?

           The idea of it drove Mycroft a little mad. He began snapping at Greg for small things. He took Greg to Paris for a weekend, picked a fight, and ignored Greg on the plane ride home. When Sally invited them to her wedding, he declined to go, not being able to bear the thought of watching someone else get married while he sat next to the man who didn’t want to marry him. He became bitter and angry, and he knew he was confusing Greg, but he didn’t know what to do about it. How did he confront the man and tell him what he knew? That Greg didn’t actually want to marry him. That he just...comfortable. 

            No need to buy the cow when you get the milk for free, wasn’t it?

 

* * *

 

 

            Olivia had begun bringing a boyfriend to dinner. When they announced their engagement, Mycroft forced himself to congratulate them with a smile. Thank goodness he’d spent years practicing expressions for his occupation. However, Greg watched him carefully, and Mycroft knew that he hadn’t fooled his partner.

 

* * *

 

 

            A few weeks later, weeks of tense interactions between them, Olivia came to dinner with her fiancé. She announced that they were expecting a child.

            Greg was overcome, his eyes wet and his hugs generous. He grabbed Mycroft’s arm and said “we’ll be granddads!”

            Olivia glanced at Mycroft, laughed, and said “Granddads? You two aren’t even married.”

            Her comment nailed the soft spot in Mycroft’s heart that he’d been trying to protect over the past several months. He stood, and walked out of the room.

            He headed for the master bedroom and sat on the bed. His heart clenched with worry that he’d shown his hand now. Greg would know that Mycroft was just as soppy and hopeful as every other person, that someone might deem him worthy of marrying. Someone might make Mycroft theirs, and do it with an announcement to the world “ this person is worthy of my love and they are who I choose.” Instead, Greg had done that with a woman barely worthy of his treads. Mycroft wasn’t worth it. And now Greg knew that Mycroft knew.

            Greg entered the bedroom. “Hey.”

            “Hello.”

            “What Olivia said wasn’t on, and I told her so. You’re family.”

            “It’s quite alright, Greg. I - I realize I’m not...I’m not who you’d want to marry. I’m quite alright with it, so long as I get to have you as long as you’ll have me.”

            “Wait, wait, wait. What are you saying?”

            “Just that, I realize that you...you don’t want to marry me. And it’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it.”

            Greg’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Is that...is that what all this has been about? You’ve been so weird lately...I thought you were going to break it off with me.”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “Well, yeah! You’ve been acting distant and you get angry about the smallest things...I thought... and I said something to Olivia about it and she’s been getting on me about you, and I told her - “ Greg gave a little laugh. “I told her you didn’t think highly of the institution of marriage and that you weren’t interested in taking part in marriage. That we were fine the way we were.”

            Mycroft stared. “You mean...”

            “Jesus Christ, Mycroft, if I’d known, I’d have proposed to you a long time ago. I love you so much, even if you aren’t the smartest man sometimes.” Greg’s eyes shone. “Nothing would make me happier than to be your husband.”

            “Marry me.” Mycroft grabbed Greg by the shoulders. “Marry me, Greg.”

            Greg laughed and tumbled into Mycroft’s arms, pressing his lips to his again and again. “Yes, you idiot, yes, yes, yes.”

            Mycroft took the wedding band that had been his grandfathers off his right hand & gave it to Greg, who could barely fit it on one pinky but it didn’t matter. They laughed and kissed again, their faces wet.

            “Dad! Ted and I have to leave soon!” Olivia called from down the stairs.

            “Shall we break the news?”

            “They’ve announced their pregnancy - would it be gauche to make our own announcement on top of theirs?”

            “Olivia’s not like that. She’ll be happy for us and want to celebrate all around.”

            “Then yes.”

            Greg squeezed Mycroft to him when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Olivia eyed them with suspicion and Ted stood behind her. “What’s going on?”

            “Mycroft’s proposed.” Greg held out his hand with the wedding band on his pinky, and he and Mycroft started snorting with laughter at the ridiculous display.

            “Oh my god, for real?” Olivia squealed. “Go on with you two! Like a couple of girls!” She hugged Greg, and then Mycroft. “Thanks for making an honest man of my dad, Mycroft.”

            Mycroft flushed. “The pleasure is mine.”

            She patted her stomach. “Welcome to the family, Grandpa.”

            They said their goodbyes and the younger couple left. Greg faced Mycroft, holding his hands. “Thank you. I...I know it doesn’t mean much to you-“

            “Greg, stop.” Mycroft exhaled. “It means something to me because it means something to you.” Mycroft continued. “And I would do anything, anything, to make you happy. And, in all honesty, I realized that I want everyone to know that you, the best man I have ever known, think me worthy enough to be your husband.”

            Greg kissed him on the mouth. “Always, Mycroft. Always. I love you.”

            “I love you.” Mycroft kissed his forehead. “I love you.” A kiss on the nose. “I love you.” And a kiss on the ring on his finger. “I love you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
